Post by Anarhie Infern on Jul 13, 2010 0:13:57 GMT -7
NAME: Anarchie Infern
GENDER: Female
DOB: June, Fifth, 423
SPECIES: Demon
POWER (s):
JOB: None
APPEARANCE:
Anarhie is a beautiful creature though she is a hellhound. Her hair is silken soft to the touch, tumbling down to her waist in thick waves. Her face is heart – shaped, with thick eyebrows and wide, disarming eyes. The color is of the palest blue, with flecks of green emerald in their depths. Her nose is curved slightly, with full pouting pink lips that are usually set in a sneer. Her skin is a pale creamy white, with honey tints here and there. Her neck is graceful, and long connecting to a nicely shaped body. She has small, firm breasts and dusty pink nipples. Lower is a taunt torso, with a small belly button. Her hips are nicely shaped, small but rounded nicely. Her ass is not big, yet neither is it small. Her legs are long, with firm thighs and small feet. She stands around six feet nine inches, tall but her hellhound kind usually is. She is willowy thin, but still muscled well around her arms, torso, and legs.
Beside her beauty, scars mark her form. The first is a thick, jagged scar that many gawk at. Starting from her temple, it runs down the right side of her face, down her cheek and ending at her right shoulder. The scar was given to her by a night hag who got a little pissed when Anarhie showed up to kill her ass. Upon her back are many whip – like scars where she has suffered her king’s wrath when she did something she was not supposed to do. Anarhie took all the beating’s without flinching, but doesn’t like anyone touching her back….ever. The last scar upon her bodice is one that runs down her torso, starting from her left ribs, and running down to her right hip. A memory from her father, who despised her as much as she did him.
Anarhie wear’s a small variety of clothes. She wears a black tank top, black jeans, and combat boots. Sometimes she wears a black leather jacket over her clothes. Black shades are always over her eyes. With the daggers in her boots, bow upon her back, and sword in her hand with the scar upon her face, she is truly a frightening creature. Anarhie wears no jewelry or such beside a small copper chain necklace upon her throat, but she doesn’t show it often.
For her beast form, she is a large dog. She appears to be a Rottweiler and Doberman pinscher mix, with a toss of pit bull blood. She stands seven feet tall, and the length of ten feet. She is five hundred pounds of sinew and muscle. Her crown is large, with pointed ears usually pricked. Dark red orbs that stare ahead with no emotion. Her snout is long and lean, black lips showing white ivories. Her tongue is pure black, her breath smelling like a rotten carcass. Her crown connects to a powerful built bodice, with a wide chest, rounded barrel, and powerful haunches. Her tail is a small stump, not long and graceful. Her legs are long, lean things with large paws and black claws. Her pelt is short strands of mixture of mahogany, brown, and black. She is a beast to be feared of.
PERSONALITY:
HISTORY:
Anarhie was born almost sixteen hundred years ago. Her father was one of the most deadly hellhounds, with her mother coming in a close second. Though while giving birth to Anarhie, her mother died. Her father was grief stricken at the loss of his mate, but would not abandon his daughter. She was the perfect image of his wife, even though she is the reason her mother was dead. Anarhie would become a great hellhound when she grew older, her father would make sure of it. Her history would be rocky and dangerous, but it's the history of a demon. What do you expect?
As soon as she could walk right, Anarhie's father began to teach her how to use a sword. He used wooden ones at first, then gave her a broadsword, also known as Sãrãcie, which meant misery. It was a long, wicked thing that Anarhie soon mastered and always had on her hip. Soon after that, he introduced her into archery, and the ashen bow of destruction,Pieire. Anarhie didn't really like achery, but she took to it. The daggers came next, known as Eºec, or daggers of defeat. Mastering them, Anarhie always hid them in her boots. Alas, her father taught her how to fight physical, and thus she was done her training.
Anarhie began to hunt down creature's as a hellhound assassian. She did get scarred badly by one of the higher up demons, but got retribution for the thick scar upon her face. Tearing it to shreds did the work, but also caught the eye of Lucifer that day. She had looked up and spotted him watching. She had hurriedly set the demon on fire before dissapearing into the shadows, and heading home. Anarhie told her father that Lucifer had spotted her, and winced as he cut a wound around her torso. Her father's rule was to never be seen by the king of hell.
A couple centuries past before Lucifer told her and her father to come to his court. Her father was pleased, but kept his daughter in the shadows. Anarhie hated this, but didn't complain at all. When they got there, instead of talking to her father, he walked right up to Anarhie and looked her up and down before placing his hands upon her cheeks and a kiss upon her lips. Her father was stunned, as well as Anarhie. When Lucifer spoke, he told her father that he would keep Anarhie as his personal hellhound and mistress. Anarhie's father was hesitant but soon complied.
Anarhie took up her duties without blinking a eye. When Lucifer called upon her, she came. She did as he told, for either giving pleasure or hunting down a beast. They had a mutual agreement for a couple centuries before Asmodues came. The prince of hell was attracted to Anarhie and she didn't like that one bit. Lucifer did not either and told the prince off, claiming Anarhie as his. She smiled at this for the first time in all her centuries as living.
At thirteen centuries of living, and ten centuries of working for Lucifer, something happened to Anarhie. She had a son, part hellhound and part fallen angel, for that's what Lucifer was. Instead of keeping the son as her own, she gave him to Lucifer with a dip of her crown. Lucifer was pleased with the child, but gave it to another female to raise until he would be a worthy soldier. Anarhie watched her son leave before turning away and heading back to her chambers.
Finally, at the age of fourteen centuries, Anarhie managed to get out a hell. She is a hellhound, and these creature's can walk between earth and hell. She slipped out from the imprisonment to glance around her new surroundings. Darting into the shadows, she set up a home in this new place, and has been living here for eighty - seven years. She keeps to herself, though communicates with Lucifer through the bond they share. One day she will release him, and the end of the world would be near.
OTHER:
AUDITION:
GENDER: Female
DOB: June, Fifth, 423
SPECIES: Demon
POWER (s):
- Elemental
- Blood Rage - Kills everything in sight.
- Tracker - Finds anyone without needing a scent or anything. Just needs the full name of the person.
- Telekenisis
- Compulsion
- Illusion
JOB: None
APPEARANCE:
Anarhie is a beautiful creature though she is a hellhound. Her hair is silken soft to the touch, tumbling down to her waist in thick waves. Her face is heart – shaped, with thick eyebrows and wide, disarming eyes. The color is of the palest blue, with flecks of green emerald in their depths. Her nose is curved slightly, with full pouting pink lips that are usually set in a sneer. Her skin is a pale creamy white, with honey tints here and there. Her neck is graceful, and long connecting to a nicely shaped body. She has small, firm breasts and dusty pink nipples. Lower is a taunt torso, with a small belly button. Her hips are nicely shaped, small but rounded nicely. Her ass is not big, yet neither is it small. Her legs are long, with firm thighs and small feet. She stands around six feet nine inches, tall but her hellhound kind usually is. She is willowy thin, but still muscled well around her arms, torso, and legs.
Beside her beauty, scars mark her form. The first is a thick, jagged scar that many gawk at. Starting from her temple, it runs down the right side of her face, down her cheek and ending at her right shoulder. The scar was given to her by a night hag who got a little pissed when Anarhie showed up to kill her ass. Upon her back are many whip – like scars where she has suffered her king’s wrath when she did something she was not supposed to do. Anarhie took all the beating’s without flinching, but doesn’t like anyone touching her back….ever. The last scar upon her bodice is one that runs down her torso, starting from her left ribs, and running down to her right hip. A memory from her father, who despised her as much as she did him.
Anarhie wear’s a small variety of clothes. She wears a black tank top, black jeans, and combat boots. Sometimes she wears a black leather jacket over her clothes. Black shades are always over her eyes. With the daggers in her boots, bow upon her back, and sword in her hand with the scar upon her face, she is truly a frightening creature. Anarhie wears no jewelry or such beside a small copper chain necklace upon her throat, but she doesn’t show it often.
For her beast form, she is a large dog. She appears to be a Rottweiler and Doberman pinscher mix, with a toss of pit bull blood. She stands seven feet tall, and the length of ten feet. She is five hundred pounds of sinew and muscle. Her crown is large, with pointed ears usually pricked. Dark red orbs that stare ahead with no emotion. Her snout is long and lean, black lips showing white ivories. Her tongue is pure black, her breath smelling like a rotten carcass. Her crown connects to a powerful built bodice, with a wide chest, rounded barrel, and powerful haunches. Her tail is a small stump, not long and graceful. Her legs are long, lean things with large paws and black claws. Her pelt is short strands of mixture of mahogany, brown, and black. She is a beast to be feared of.
PERSONALITY:
- Silent – Anarhie doesn’t talk much. She hates speaking as much as she hates her own father. When she does talk, her lyrics are like a thousand screams. Many tend to flinch whenever she speaks with her dark voice, so she tries not to speak at all. The only person who hears her lyrics is the prince of darkness, and sometimes his guards whenever they are around.
- Merciless – Do you expect a emotionless creature to feel mercy? If you do, then you are a fool. Anarhie does not show mercy when she kills those who are meant to die. Some of her target’s beg, other’s cry, but she doesn’t even blink a eye. Mercy is a word she does not know, and many comment on this. They say the day mercy was explained, she skipped school.
- Calculating –Anarhie is a cold, calculating beast. She doesn’t just rush into battle, but checks everything and makes a plan. This makes her a worthy creature who never fails at her job. Taking in odds, and layouts she knows many things about her battlefield. Other’s rush into battle and get killed, but not she for Anarhie takes in any weakness and uses it against her opponent.
- Loyal – Loyalty is something she does not know, BUT she will never betray her prince. She cannot and will not betray her master. Bounded to Lucifer and his son, she cannot harm her masters. This makes her ‘feel’ a rage, but in truth, the emotion doesn’t play inside her, no matter how hard she tries. Anarhie doesn’t like being bound, but she is and nothing can change that.
- Blood Thirty – Anarhie loves to fight and feel blood splash against her body. Maybe because she is a hound that makes her feel this, but who knows? She has the crave to hunt and kill was born within her, and she cannot the beast inside. Many shun her for this, but she only glances away, annoyed with them.
HISTORY:
Anarhie was born almost sixteen hundred years ago. Her father was one of the most deadly hellhounds, with her mother coming in a close second. Though while giving birth to Anarhie, her mother died. Her father was grief stricken at the loss of his mate, but would not abandon his daughter. She was the perfect image of his wife, even though she is the reason her mother was dead. Anarhie would become a great hellhound when she grew older, her father would make sure of it. Her history would be rocky and dangerous, but it's the history of a demon. What do you expect?
As soon as she could walk right, Anarhie's father began to teach her how to use a sword. He used wooden ones at first, then gave her a broadsword, also known as Sãrãcie, which meant misery. It was a long, wicked thing that Anarhie soon mastered and always had on her hip. Soon after that, he introduced her into archery, and the ashen bow of destruction,Pieire. Anarhie didn't really like achery, but she took to it. The daggers came next, known as Eºec, or daggers of defeat. Mastering them, Anarhie always hid them in her boots. Alas, her father taught her how to fight physical, and thus she was done her training.
Anarhie began to hunt down creature's as a hellhound assassian. She did get scarred badly by one of the higher up demons, but got retribution for the thick scar upon her face. Tearing it to shreds did the work, but also caught the eye of Lucifer that day. She had looked up and spotted him watching. She had hurriedly set the demon on fire before dissapearing into the shadows, and heading home. Anarhie told her father that Lucifer had spotted her, and winced as he cut a wound around her torso. Her father's rule was to never be seen by the king of hell.
A couple centuries past before Lucifer told her and her father to come to his court. Her father was pleased, but kept his daughter in the shadows. Anarhie hated this, but didn't complain at all. When they got there, instead of talking to her father, he walked right up to Anarhie and looked her up and down before placing his hands upon her cheeks and a kiss upon her lips. Her father was stunned, as well as Anarhie. When Lucifer spoke, he told her father that he would keep Anarhie as his personal hellhound and mistress. Anarhie's father was hesitant but soon complied.
Anarhie took up her duties without blinking a eye. When Lucifer called upon her, she came. She did as he told, for either giving pleasure or hunting down a beast. They had a mutual agreement for a couple centuries before Asmodues came. The prince of hell was attracted to Anarhie and she didn't like that one bit. Lucifer did not either and told the prince off, claiming Anarhie as his. She smiled at this for the first time in all her centuries as living.
At thirteen centuries of living, and ten centuries of working for Lucifer, something happened to Anarhie. She had a son, part hellhound and part fallen angel, for that's what Lucifer was. Instead of keeping the son as her own, she gave him to Lucifer with a dip of her crown. Lucifer was pleased with the child, but gave it to another female to raise until he would be a worthy soldier. Anarhie watched her son leave before turning away and heading back to her chambers.
Finally, at the age of fourteen centuries, Anarhie managed to get out a hell. She is a hellhound, and these creature's can walk between earth and hell. She slipped out from the imprisonment to glance around her new surroundings. Darting into the shadows, she set up a home in this new place, and has been living here for eighty - seven years. She keeps to herself, though communicates with Lucifer through the bond they share. One day she will release him, and the end of the world would be near.
OTHER:
- Cursed and lost her emotions.
- Mistress to the king of hell.
AUDITION:
I remembered black skies,
The lightning all around me
I remembered each flash,
As time began to blur
The lightning all around me
I remembered each flash,
As time began to blur
It was the afternoon, the sun high in the sky. The rays brought warmth to the cold lands, as spring began to arrive. The air was thick with moist, for a storm was building up, ready to unleash it's fury to the land. Another critical hit to the creature who had just suffered a long, cold winter. Now a storm was coming, and with hardly any shelter, who would survive the flooding as snow began to melt, and drain into the rivers...which would overflow with it's fast moving water's. The birds cawed as they tried to find a safe place to land and hold through the storm. A few thin deer took off into the cold forest, hoping to earn protecting from the thick branches that overlapped each other. The smaller ainmals ducked into their holes, while others climbed the tree's into their higher homes. Everyone was scurrying to get out of the storm, wanting to survive to see the beauty of the spring? But who would...who would survive?
Thick, inky grey clouds swept in from the east. They rumbled and lightning flashed. The sky grew dark, then everything erupted. The heavens opened and rain began to pour down in thick waves. The cold liquid splashed against the snow, melting it swiftly. The streams of water gushed into the rivers, and they begans to swell. The cold water was a thick mass of twigs, moss, and muddy water with foam at the edges. It began to swirl round and round, before swarming over it's banks and into the forest. The water's consumed the snow which added fuel to the rampage. Animals fled from the cold water's, and the ones who got stuck where swept along with the water. So cold was the waters that the animals gasped and where not able to refuse the rushing water's pool. No creature could, the rushing water's where to strong....to powerful.
A lupa was also swept along with the water's. The majestic beast's crown was lifted high out of the waters. Auds where flicked back, pinned down tightly. Orbs where wide, pupils dilated, their violet depths losing the insanity as sheer terror rushed in. Her jowls where opened slightly, until water gushed in, then the lupa closed them with a click. Her slim bodice was trying hard to stay above the rampage. Long pillars trying to paddle, but to no avail. Her weight and thick, black pelt was pulling her down, down into the depths. With a final breath of air, she submerged into the water's. She sank quickly, her pillars moving useless through the dark, thick water until a log slammed into her crown. Then her orbs closed and she sunk into the darkness.....
Gasping, a fae awoke from her dreams. The illusions around her where that of a raging storm and rushing rapids. Blinking her orbs, the slowly dissapeared, growing smaller and smaller until they dissapeared from view. The lupa shivered, and turned her crown to lick at her pelt. She had lived her worst nightmare, death by rushing water's. No, she wasn't scared about being torn to shreds, burned alive, or getting her throat torn out. She was scared of drowning, of feeling the waters clutch at her until she finally drowned in the dark, cold depth. A pathetic fear, but all creature's had their fear's, and this was her's. Yes, her's and many other creature's who didn't fear the death by another's paws, or hands.
Shaking her crown, the large fae got to her feet. She was beautiful, yes but with aurora of darkness. Her crown was small, and finely shaped. Tear-shaped auds where pricked as she listened to everything around her. Almond-shaped orbs where framed by thick lashes that brushed her maw. Their color was the deepest of violet, with black rings around the iris. Insanity was in their depths, as well as chaos and death. The fae was not....sane. Her crown connected to a long neck, thickly muscled and graceful. The neck in turn connected to a nice, large chest that was built for speed and endurance. Her bodice was slim, yet curvy with thick muscles, but thin flesh that showed her ribs. Her banner was long and elegantly curved, clinging to her back pillars at the moment. Each pillar in turn was thickly muscled, and powerful, ready to spring or leap at the slightest of sound. The fae's pelt....it was long, and soft to the touch, the color so dark a black it seemed purple. Yet the most orb catching aspect was the blood red mask upon her maw, circling around her orbs and top jowl. A magnificent specimen of a fae, but deadly as can be.
Turning her dark, brooding gaze to the south, she flicked her auds. A howl had awakened her. It sounded feminem, but the depth was the touch of a brute. Hm, she should go check it out, since the howl was a claiming one, and she did need a pack. Well not really, but she was getting bored and a pack meant exciment. Shaking her pelt, she broke free from the last grip of the nightmare. A yawn broke from her jowls, and she stretched before pounding forward into the tree's. She welcomed the cool darkness around her as she moved forward, silent as can be. Using her gift, the fae made herself blend in pefectly with the forest darkness, and wiped away her scent, a illusion to the mind, but a very powerful one at that. She kept the cloak, feeling safe with the feel of her power swimming through her veins and keeping her out of sight. Nothing could sneak up on her...and try to rape her like her father, or even try to murder her, even though many had tried and failed. Wincing at the memory, she shoved it all away and picked up her pack.
Moving through the forest with ease, she let her senses feel. Her auds picked up the sounds of birds, deer, and a fox. Nostrils flared as she picked up different markings from prey and predators that where stored away in the 'memory' part of her brain. To many to name, but also welcoming to her wolven nature. Discarding most of the prey and predator scents, she picked out three different scent of wolven. A brute, the one who howled, and two different females. Hm, not bad not bad. The two fae's might be a problem because she never got a lone with fae's, thanks to her whore of a mother, and a sister who thought she knew everything. See? Life had not been fair to her, but in the end, life was never fair. It gave you something good, then decided to take everything in a blink of a orb. How did she know this? It had happened to her in more then one occasion. That's why she really didn't care about life, because in the end, you always lost.
Shaking her crown again, the fae came to a stop. She peered out of the shadows, seeing two fae's. The brute's scent was fresh here, but alas, he was not here at the moment. She studied the two fae's with calculating orbs. One was black, not so large but not small either, with daring orbs and she radiated power..power that tasted of storms, and rain, and everything that was...what was the word, oh yeah weather. She shuddered at that, and her gaze swept to the other fae, a white lupa with....wings was it? Hm, how would it feel to the lupa if her wings where ripped from her bodice? Immense agony, and the screams would be music to her auds. Grinning slightly, she took a deep whiff and smelled healing magic. Uh, healing meant goodness and how she hated goodness. Baring her ivories, she looked away from the two as another lupine appeared....the brute.
Orbs widened slightly in suprise. The brute was large, a bit on the lean side, but muscular. His pelt was different shades of....purple. Yet white and black also made their way onto his form. Thick pelt, long pillars, and dark, brooding orbs....a handsome creature. And with the look in his orbs that slightly resembled her's made her tense up and took more notice. His magic tasted like her own....so her 'maybe' alphine was a Illusioner like her, but maybe not as strong. She had met many with her gift, yet her's was always the stronger and her opponent defeated. They where all boring, and no challenge to her at all. Yet he would give her a challenge, and a game to play. Oh, the pack was already exciting her, making her blood sing and her breath pick up. Muscles tensed as she stepped forward, closer to the beast's. The shadows moved with her, still cloaking her blac bodice so that they could not see her, unless she wanted them to.
Auds pricked as she listened to the lupine's speak. So the black fae was Gwynnwy Balf, a ok name, not exotic but not something you heard all the time. The white fae was Tala, short and feminem, which was ok with her. Though the brute's name was Fracture. What did it mean? A fractured heart, soul, body, dreams? What could he possibly mean with that calling. The brute was a puzzle to her, and that was something new. She could usually always guess things about other's and the majority of the time it was right, but him she got nothing. Hm, yes this would be the pack she would join. Though the white fae had claimed betess, she could always move up in the ranks. She was powerful beast, but also not trustworthy so maybe not. She would take any rank at all, but if she was given omega, well thing's would not be pretty.
With a shrug of her shoulder's, the illusion melted away. The shadows reeled back to show her dark form to the south from where the three stood. Her crown lifted a notch, her auds pricked, and stood regally. Her violet orbs flashed, her lids coming down slowly to slightly hide the insanity in their depths. Her black lips pulled back from her white ivories in a slow, acidic smile. Oh look what we have here...three wolven with powerful gifts. You, she turned to the black fae, Gwynwy Balf, With the gift of Atmokinesis. Not bad. You, she turned her gaze to Tala, With the gift of chlorokinesis. She didn't comment about that. And you, she flickered her gaze to Fractured, With the gift of Illusion. she said, lyrics dark and brooding, with a pinch of chaos and insanity in their depths. She swept her gaze to all of them, still standing away, but not frightened. In fact, she had her Illusion wipe away her scent again. The fourth is me, Bloody Rose, who is also gifted with Illusion. she let the lyrics slip out, not about to hide what she was, for she was proud of herself and her gift. The alphine is you, and supposedly you, white fae, are the betess, but I don't know what you are black one. Yet, I do not really mind much, for I have a true question to ask: Can I join you three, or am I to insane and dangerous to be accepted? her lyrics where collected, but with a hint of question and doom. No one should let her join a pack, for she turned on anyone in it. Bloody Rose always had, and always would.
Shaking herself inwardly, she kept a calm mask as she watched the three. What would they do? Attack her, or simply stare awhile before talking. Her name would ring a bell, because she was known to be quiet the insane, dangerous Queen of Illusions who did not hesitate to use her powers to make other's suffer. It was a bad habit of her's, but bloody rose needed to feel the power rush through her veins. It was like a addiction, but one she was glued onto. Anyway, her power had helped her greatly. It had helped her kill her father, and many other's who had tried to rape her while other's tried to murder her. A pure defense and offense for her case, and it was used for good not just to waste it...most of the times. Anyway, Rose was getting off subject. Shaking herself inwardly again, she let the strength of her gift seep from her bodice, so that if they magically probed, they could feel how powerful she was, and how a attack against her would be useless and in vain. This was going to be a very interesting day.
Like a startling sign,
That fate had finally found me
And your voice was all I heard,
That I get what I deserve
That fate had finally found me
And your voice was all I heard,
That I get what I deserve
